Paranoia in Purgatory
by abracadaver
Summary: Hitch Hiking a ride to Purgatory wasn't exactly the vacation Dean Winchester had imagined he'd take after ganking Dick Roman. In a realm full of monster souls, Castiel and Dean have got to keep moving, sleep could mean certain death. And what happens if you die in purgatory, and the question we all want to know the answer to, How in the hell are they going to escape?


**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: Just finished season seven of Supernatural, it had been over a year since I'd watched it. And I realized there is something really iconic and emotionally stirring about the impala on that show, watching that finale I realized how much I'd missed watching it. It took me twenty three episodes to realize that again, Sam and Dean really are great. They inspired me again, like three years ago when I started Burn in Hell, my other supernatural fan fiction which takes place right after the season four finale and features my own take on another way I'd have liked to see season five go. Anyway, this story is not a continuation of Burn in Hell at all. It is what I imagined to have happened after the Season 7 finale. Enjoy and feedback is very encouraging, please and thank you.

_Wake up. Good, we need to get out of here._

_Where are we?_

_You don't know?_

_Last I remember, we ganked Dick-_

_And where would he go in death?_

_Wait, your telling me-_

_Every soul here is…a monster. This is where they come to prey upon each other for all of eternity._

_We're in purgatory? How do we get out?_

_I'm afraid we're much more likely to get ripped to shreds…_

Dean looked away from Castiel and over his shoulder, back into the seemingly endless woods behind him, all the shadows where alive. Black masses moving, stalking, congealing from nothingness to large black red eyed beasts swarming in the trees all around Dean, there was nowhere to run. "Cas," he began not wanting to take his eyes off the terrors just itching to rip him apart, he could feel it-the bloodlust, and it made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. "I think we'd better-" he turned back to where Castiel had been standing. He was gone…

Dean frantically looked around the small clearing in which he stood, for any glimpse of Castiel. "Cas!" he yelled, trying to ignore the ascending mob of blood thirsty beasts. He suddenly became very aware of his own heartbeat, the monotonous and loud beating ringing in his ears. He could feel the blood pumping through the veins at the ends of his fingers and for a moment he found it hard to think. The terror he felt at that moment was paralyzing.

It was like hell all over again.

_Fuck._

He thought. What else do you think in a situation like that? He checked the inside of his jacket for a gun, in fact any weapon would be a comfort. His hand fell on it, the hilt of his silver hunting knife, he pulled it out from the inside pocket of his jacket, ragged breathes came in out as he tried to steady his breathing and remain calm. He clenched the knife tightly, it was his life-line and he stood still waiting for the first lurching movement to stab at.

Un-discernible growls rose up from the woods around him, he clinched his jaw and closed his eyes momentarily trying to focus himself. Keeping the fear and panic at bay was the hardest part, because he wanted to scream. He wanted to run, but he knew he had to stand his ground. The moment he'd try and take off they'd be on him like a pack of wolves, not unlike the current situation. But maybe if he stood in this clearing he'd at least be able to tell the difference between a monster and a humble tree.

_One._

He counted down in his head, crouching down ever so slightly, ready to fight.

_Two._

There was a lot of movement and sound all around him, circling. Growling and screeching, claws on claws on flesh, they were fighting each other off, saving Dean for the victor to devour. Dean's eyes narrowed and frowning he said, "Come at me you dumb fuck sons of bitches.."

_Three._

Suddenly this large, windigo shaped creature lunge itself from the tree tops down at him. A pair of claws slashed him clean across his chest, knocking him backwards onto the ground. It straddled him and went for a stab through his abdomen. He stuck the blade up through where the stomach would be on the beast and pulled the knife up to it's throat, pulling the blade back out and pushing the corpse over onto the ground next to him. He jumped back up, jaw clenched watching the woods for another attack. "Come on! Was that your best sho-" This time it came from behind, and by the time he realized it a pair of claws was sticking through his right shoulder. He looked down at it for a moment, and then doubled over to the ground. Landing on his hands and knees he started coughing. When he opened his eyes his vision was blurred and there was a puddle of blood from his shoulder forming to his right and small droplets from his mouth sprayed beneath him. He was coughing up blood; the un-mistakable taste of copper filled his mouth. Dean kept wondering where Cas had gone, he felt weak like he was going to pass out at any moment, probably due to the blood loss. Something came from the left and rammed into him, knocking Dean across the clearing and into a tree, snapping it in half. He screamed out at the impact, what happened when he died here? Was that it? Or would he just keep coming back? If he died would he never be able to leave? Did he have to stay alive long enough to find an exit? Was there a way out of Purgatory?

There was a sudden flash of white light, or at least that's what Dean thought he saw, maybe he was hallucinating now. Something grabbed his arm and he flinched and tried to stab it, but he no longer had a knife. So all that happened was he weakly gripped the thing's arm and tried to vainly push away from whatever had him. He was in so much pain, he was exhausted and he didn't have the strength to lift his eyelids. He figured he'd be disemboweled any second now.

"Dean." It was Cas. Dean mumbled something; Castiel stopped trying to move him for a moment. "What did you say?" he asked, momentarily distracted from the task at hand. "I said," Dean mumbled a bit louder, trying to talk through the blood and swollen cheek was tiring to Dean. "You've got great timing, Cas." Castiel looked at him a moment, brows furrowed, then finally his face relazed again "Sarcasm."

He hoisted Dean up, one of Dean's arms around his neck and over his shoulders. "Dean, I'm going to need your help, can you walk?"

Castiel was just barely holding him up, Dean's feet where dragging and his whole body was slouched over onto Castiel. "Look we don't have much longer till the monsters will be back. I think I found a place for us to hold up in for the time being. But I'm going to need your help to get there. Dean?"

He must have still been semi-conscious; he made a grunting sound and began to limp with Castiel through the woods. "Can't you just beam us up, scotty?"

"I don't understand the reference."

"Teleport, angel zap us there.."

Every word Dean said took the greatest deal of effort, his breathes not holding within his chest long enough for him to speak one coherent sentence without a cough and a bit of blood spit up.

"It seems that this place may be draining me..I'm not sure."

They walked a bit longer in silence, there was no movement around them in the seemingly eternal night, Castiel stopped after what seemed like an eternity. He lead Dean into a small shack and a moment later Dean felt a falling sensation and then the release of a mattress to comfort his fall.

Castiel looked down at Dean Winchester.

Dean laid half on, half off the bed. There was blood all over him, one side of his face was cut open and swollen an awful purple color, his black shirt was ripped up and exposing a series of violent gash marks and a large puncture wound to his right shoulder. His brown hair was a mess and slightly longer than usual, in fact a lot longer than it was when they first got here. Castiel's eyes narrowed at this, then reached up to touch his own hair. It had grown as well…

He knelt down and pushed Dean's legs up onto the bed, and pressed two fingers to Dean's neck against the carotid artery, his pulse was too slow. Dean had lost too much blood, he'd have to use some Angel juju. He laid a hand over Dean's puncture wound, Dean squirmed slightly under the hand and moaned in pain. His face scrunched up, but too weak to raise an arm against it, it was just too heavy to move. There was a light again, Dean knew this because behind his eyelids it got brighter for a moment and his shoulder pain was gone.

Castiel pulled his hand away, and slid down onto his butt and just sat there as Dean slept. After a while there where noises…twigs snapping under the weight of some unknown foe. The brushing of tree branches against flesh and the low growl of a hungry beast.

How the hell where they going to get out of here?


End file.
